Getting Away With Murder
by waatp
Summary: Chloe Beale grew up different. And she was okay with that, using her gift to help other people. When Jesse Swanson wandered into Chloe's life, little did she realise how quickly her life would change when he asked her for her help. Will Jesse and Beca's relationship survive? Would it even begin? Jeca love story with a twist. AU. I own the rights to nothing except a dodgy haircut.
1. Medium Rare

**.o0o. Prologue .o0o.**

"Why are you doing this to me?" Chloe Beale cried out into the face of her captor as the high dose of barbiturate was injected into her veins. "I was just trying to help you!"

The frightened words echoed in the gloomy space of the dark basement that Chloe found herself in on that cold Wednesday in March. No words were spoken as she was laid onto the dirty floor and kicked onto her back. With her hands tied tightly to the small stair post, there was little she could to get out of the situation she was in as her legs began to freeze, losing feeling as the drugs began to work. The bare, rose coloured bulb hanging in the middle of the room did little to lighten the room to say nothing of alleviating her fears. Now that she knew today would be the day she would die, she'd given up on hope.

So much had changed over the past eight years. She'd gone from a well loved and admired, international favourite on television and owning her own beautiful six bedroom home, a fleet of expensive cars and more shoes than Imelda Marcos to living out of her car, eating takeout and borrowing money from her Grandma for gas.

"Why?" Chloe asked, sobbing as the drug coursed through her veins and her whole being started to numb.

"You'd of thought that _you_ of all people wouldn't need an answer to that question." The thick, alcohol laced voice spoke softly, menacingly as two fingers found their way onto Chloe's neck, searching for a pulse. "It won't be long now."

Perhaps Chloe _should_ have foreseen the situation; that was her gift after all. Which is why, as her left lung began to collapse and her breathing became laboured and the dancing lights before her eyes started to confuse her, she couldn't understand why this scene had been blocked from her mind. How could she not have seen this?

"Any last words? Any last requests?" The captor mocked as an image of a sunny beach flooded into Chloe's vision, she could feel the sun on her face, the sand beneath her feet and the cool sea mist coating her delicately freckled skin. "I have a last question for you before you die. Will I get away with all of this?"

**.o0o. Chapter One - Medium Rare .o0o.**

When Chloe Beale was just five years old, she began to tell her mother, Lucy, about the little boy that lived in the shadows in her bedroom.

She was a happy go lucky child at that age with a sunny disposition and was eager to please with everything she did. Chloe was an only child; the siblings her parents had wanted for her had simply not happened and while not a spoilt child, Chloe wanted for nothing in life. At five, she just _knew_ that one day she'd live on Mars, invent glow in the dark ice cream and would marry the handsome man in the Levi's commercials.

She was gifted, spirited and a bundle of energy which is why, looking back as an adult, she could understand the reasons her mother didn't believe her when she blamed the broken clock on the little boy that lived in the wall. Or the time that the diamond earrings, the ones that had once belonged to her grandmother, had gone missing only to be found under the kitchen sink and most definitely not when her beloved Barbie doll found it's way up onto the roof of their two storey, turn of the century home.

Chloe was spanked and sent to bed until she had learnt not to tell lies or stories. She had been brought up to always be truthful and had never given her parents any real cause for concern with tall tales before. Chloe knew she was telling the truth because after her bedroom door was closed, her room would grow cold and eerie and while she was not afraid, she just didn't like the pretty purple and blue room with the pink butterflies anymore.

Desperate to appease the situation and make her parents believe her, the next time she was in her room and she saw the boy rifling around in her closet; his back to the door and his head bent low, she quietly stole out of the room and along the corridor to her parents bedroom. They were just getting ready for a night out with friends when Chloe dragged her mother back to see the boy with her own, grown up eyes.

With her finger on her lips, Chloe beckoned her mother to follow her into the room and pointed to the boy in the closet. He was about eight or nine but dressed very strangely in trousers that ended at the knees, long white socks and black buckle shoes. His frilly white shirt would have seen him mercilessly teased at the school gates and the scar on his face would have scared most children.

Recalling that particular moment in her memory, Chloe clearly remembered she had been determined to be quiet to let her mother see the boy properly but he had his fingers in her little box of jewellery, gently touching her finest glittery headband with the diamonds glued onto it and it was her favourite.

"Hey, that's mine!" She cried out, in spite of herself and the boy's head whipped around and looked her right in the eye before smiling a wide, toothy smile. Chloe blinked and the boy was gone.

Just like that.

"See, I told you." Chloe said, spinning around to her mother, hopeful for an apology or at the very least recognition that she hadn't been lying all along. Instead of her mother looking into her closet where the boy had been, she was staring wide eyed and slightly fearful at her young daughter. She backed out of the room quickly, knocking her shoulder painfully onto the door frame before turning to run down the hallway. Moments later, Chloe's father, Peter, was in her bedroom, spanking Chloe hard for upsetting her mother so.

It was only when the child psychologist was called to the house to speak in great detail with the young Chloe that the subject was discussed at length. Both of her parents looked afraid and slightly dejected that something was wrong with their only daughter as the psychologist grasped Chloe's hands tightly and spoke to her sternly.

"That boy was not, is not and never will be real."

"He is to me." Chloe laughed.

**.o0o.**

Becoming a professional psychic had never been on the list of jobs Chloe had wanted to do as a youngster. She had tried to maintain a normal childhood despite the plethora of spirits that had woven a path through her bedroom, home and existence. Even when her family had moved house, the visions had followed her. She called the quiet ones the '_shadows_' as they tended to shrink into the walls and watch from afar, the feisty ones who would show off, she'd called the '_glimmers_'. She had given up explaining anything to her family and as they no longer heard about it, they all assumed it was a phase and passed it over as a childhood fantasy.

But Chloe knew, just because you can't see something doesn't mean it isn't there. She couldn't explain it and definitely couldn't deny it; it had came to her as easily as breathing and walking. By the time she was in university, she had stopped denying it, stopped fighting it and embraced it. She told a few college friends; some took it well but some didn't, so she just surrounded herself with people who accepted her and let her be.

She wasn't quite sure how she ended up with a television show; a fairly popular one at that but it was something to do with someone who knew a guy who was friends with a woman who lived next door to a TV producer who was looking for a twenty minute filler show between a cooking program and a home improvements segment. Or something like that. She'd forgotten long ago now. Chloe had been on the air for three months before it was picked up by a national channel and extended to an hour long slot.

She never met her guests before a taping.

She left that to the producers and assistants who would do everything they could to make their guests comfortable. The plush green room was filled with trays of sandwiches, fruit and doughnuts. The mini fridge held a good stock of soda and juice and the glasses and mugs bore the name of the show; aptly but simply named _Chloe_. Chloe was usually in a room on the other side of the studio, keeping all interactions to a minimum until they met on stage, quietly listening to music or in more recent weeks, knitting.

The stage platform was simply furnished with her soft, comfortable chair and the guests' sofa along with a few pot plants and a table with a short lamp on it. Chloe liked it to be uncluttered. That way, when she grasped the guests' hands for the first time, the sensations and senses were undiluted and as fuss free as possible so that the swirl of connective energy was unobstructed.

Today, she was snapped out of her pre-show reverie by Ashley; the third assistant to the fifth assistant to the assistant director's assistant or something else equally random, knocking timidly on her dressing room door. Ashley was a small, mousy girl who constantly sucked on a lollipop and was completely overwhelmed by everything from collecting the scripts for the days show from the management offices to the coffee machine running out of filters, but she was a sweet girl and Chloe liked her.

Pulling open the door, Chloe could hear the hum from the small studio audience. Each person in the audience was background checked after they had filled in a profile questionnaire when applying for tickets. On the way into the studio, the guests went through several levels of security. They were screened for drugs, alcohols and weapons of any sort, Chloe relied on positive energy to maintain her link to the paranormal world and if the audience was out of sorts or under the influence of alcohol, it was harder for her to call upon the spirits and she was well aware of the intended pun when she explained that.

There was currently a long waiting list to get a seat in the studio and her producer, Donald, was beside himself with glee.

"Can you believe it Chloe?" Donald had asked. "A three year waiting list and we've only been on the air for twelve weeks! People are dying to come to the show. And the dead are pretty patient at waiting too."

Glancing back at her reflection, Chloe fell in step behind Ashley as they walked down the corridor.

"Ashley, what do you think of these shoes?" Chloe asked as they paused at the crossroads, pointing down to her Louboutin shoes.

"They're wonderful." Ashley remarked, pulling the lollipop from her mouth to reply.

"You don't think the red clashes with my hair, do you?"

"Not at all." Ashley said, stealing a second look with a flush of envy before blushing beetroot red. Chloe reasoned that the shoes probably cost more than Ashley's monthly rental cost on the small apartment she held on the outskirts of town. "No one's going to see it anyway as the red is only on the bottom of your shoe like all Louboutin shoes."

Chloe knew Ashley was right. But she also remembered what it felt like when her and her mother fell on hard times after her Dad was killed in a car accident. Hannah, a young widow of just 34, would declare 'ramen noodle week', where all there was to eat were packet noodles until the next pay check would come in. Chloe always remembered those times when she looked at her collection of expensive shoes, thinking how fitting it was that her sixth sense was called a 'gift' .

One of Chloe's spirit guides, Jessica, gave her a psychic nudge; the feeling a bit like a shiver running down a spine and Chloe put her hand out on Ashley's arm. She inwardly groaned as technically and morally, she wasn't supposed to do this.

"Ash, you're about to meet someone." Chloe said, casting up eyes upwards as the scene played out before her very eyes. "He's from Germany or Austria or somewhere where they have sausages, drive fast and are very punctual. It's going to happen on a train. When he asks if you need help, even if you don't need it, say yes."

"How will I know what he looks like?" Ashley asked.

"I don't know." Chloe answered honestly. "I can't always give details."

"Chloe, I don't ride the train." Ashley muttered.

"Maybe you should start?" Chloe suggested, angering slightly as she wanted to suggest that Ashley shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. She could hear Jessica murmuring thoughts into her ear as Michael, her other spirit guide started to laugh in the back corners of her mind.

'Someone got off the wrong side of their broom this morning huh?' Michael mused and immediately took Chloe down a notch or two which was what she needed as she was about to go on stage as soon as the warm up crew had finished. Usually Chloe's last thoughts before she clambered up the small staircase to go on stage were with Jessica and Michael. She breathed easier knowing they were keeping an eye on her. Ashley stepped to the side to give Chloe space to move into position as the introduction music began to play.

"Let's do this." Chloe said quietly, more to herself than to anyone else. She said the same thing before every reading, even way, way, way back when she was at college, doing readings for $2 or taking phone calls on the physic hot line for several websites. She was well aware that she had the fifth largest cable show on television, just behind Oprah, Ellen, Extreme Makeover and Judge Judy. Her mother, once her biggest disbeliever, now lived in a prestigious bungalow not far from her own large, personally designed and bespoke home and ate steak whenever she wanted instead of noodles. Chloe was recognised on the street, in the supermarket or just driving in her car. Chloe was stopped regularly for autographs and for people to talk to her but inside she really still believed she was exactly the same little girl who told a young boy to stop raiding her closest and stealing her trinkets.

'That's what you think lovely.' Michael whispered into her ear with regards to the little girl comment as Chloe took her cue to enter the stage to the roar of the crowd.

'Life for you is about to get a whole lot more interesting!' Jessica mused as Chloe took her position on her plush chair and waved warmly to the crowd.

"Hello, hello, hello!" Chloe said happily to the crowd as everyone bustled around and took their seats. "Thank you for being here today. Isn't the weather just terrible this morning?"

The crowd all murmured their agreement, remembering the cold, damp drizzle outside.

"Don't worry, tomorrow will be better for sure!" Chloe laughed as the producer, Donald, talked into her ear piece. "Now, my first guest today has flown halfway across the country to be here. I only know his name and where he's from but I am super excited to meet him. So can I get everyone in this world and the next to please welcome Jesse Swanson from Atlanta to the stage!"

The crowd cheered and clapped as 25 year old Jesse walked nervously onto the stage, clutching a couple of items in a cloth bag in his hands. Chloe warmed to him immediately, his soft brown hair neatly and carefully combed and his deep brown eyes portraying a kind, sweet soul. He was visibly shaking as he took a seat opposite Chloe, placing the bag on the floor behind his feet.

"Welcome to the show!" Chloe said brightly, smiling at her new guest. "How are you doing Jesse?"

"I'm good, thank you." Jesse said. "I'm happy to be here, despite the rather obvious shakes!"

"It's all good sweetheart." Chloe said, shifting forward in the seat and offering her hand out for Jesse to take. "Let's see what's going on with you."

Jesse took Chloe's hand in his, wrapping his fingers around hers carefully. Chloe felt her stomach clench as she felt the warmth of his touch travel up her arm and course through her veins. She saw flashes, pictures, scenes unravelling as he continued to grip tightly onto her. Chloe felt his pain, anguish and fear as well as his love, pride and joy as she foresaw his beautiful beach wedding with a girl who looked vaguely familiar, as if she was famous but not too prominent in the public eye. Chloe saw the birth of his children and a happy, loving home that he shared with a gorgeous and talented wife.

She could see he was deliriously happy but Chloe held back a violent scream, dropping Jesse's hand into his lap as she saw him an image of him raising a Browning pistol and shooting his wife three times in the head as she slept in their bed.

Snapping her eyes round to meet his gaze, she looked him square in the eye and held her breath as Donald, talking quickly in her ear, urged her to say something. The audience stayed eerily silent and the production team began to cast eyes at each other as the pause in speaking and interaction began to get uncomfortable.

Chloe began to feel hot and the beads of sweat started to form on her brow as she slowly began to recognise the girl in her vision. If this was who Jesse was going to marry and subsequently kill, he was going to be murdering the greatest thing since sliced bread in the music industry. Chloe tried to wipe the thoughts from her mind and begged Jessica and Michael for help but with the vision clouding every aspect of her mind, they couldn't get through.

Chloe was witnessing a crime that hadn't taken place and while she had seen acts like this before, they had never been in the future, they had always been in the past and usually gave the family some comfort in the end, not to mention the Police some valuable clues in catching the perpetrators. Did she have it in her to tell the truth and admit to this sweet man sitting, waiting patiently in front of her that he would eventually kill the famous music producer Beca Mitchell?

* * *

**A/N - Special thanks to cajunqueen714 and Raven12 ... guys, you know why x**


	2. Ramblings of an Author

**Intermission!  
.o0o. And A Note From The Author .o0o**

* * *

**.o0o.**

Dear Readers

I have been away from writing for a while. After a pretty busy and emotional year (mother in law passing away, my own (continued) illness, a house move and the general stresses of life and family issues), I'm now in a place where I can get back to writing on a more regular basis ... i.e. updating more than once a month.

I am under no illusions whatsoever that I have an army of people sitting there waiting for me to finish this story but if you do and want an end to this little tale, please drop me a PM, find me on Twitter (my usernames are the same and I have a bright yellow button for an avatar which matches my button here) or a leave a comment in the review box and let me know. I love hearing from you guys, even if it's a negative review as it shows you care enough to tell me!

All of my stories are mapped out from the very beginning and all of them have a definite ending already written. I always write the last chapter first and then start at the beginning. Each chapter is planned and ready to be written. I guess I just need you guys to give me a virtual kick up the backside!

Wishing you all the best,  
waatp xx

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**.o0o.**


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